All Those Knowing Hours Which Passed Between UsAll those knowing hours which passed between us
Are gone. No new dawn can make them
Pass again between us.
Do not worry, though, if those hours are frozen,
Composed in cement: they are still ours.
Talking in silence of moonsoft things
We shall always be beautiful.
What matter if now, alone, my hand touches
Only cold stone and cannot make it stir?
What matter if we were not ever
Whoever we thought we were?